Page 109 of Bourbon & Blood

“Fair,” Louie said with a sigh. “So, you don’t mind the shadow?” he asked and I laughed and shook my head.

“You’re not a shadow,” I said. “You’re one of my friends. Like a brother I never knew I had. So, come on,” I jerked my head in the direction I was going and he made a face.

“No,youcome on. Let’s ride.”

I grinned, “Thought you’d never ask.”

I mean, it wasn’t riding with La Croix, which was quickly becoming one of my most favorite things ever; but it sure beat taking the bus…

CHAPTERFORTY-ONE

La Croix…

We waited long enough for the cover of night to end this.

“You’re good,” the voice declared over the earpiece, and I waved to Hex. It was just me an’ him on this.

“System’s down, you have fifteen minutes.” The voice was steady and sounded almost… bored.

“Thank you, brother,” I said and the man on the other end of the line said, “No sweat, happy hunting y’all.”

We slipped into the fancy Garden District mansion through one of the back veranda’s French doors, and paused inside, listening.

Big daddy didn’t have a security detail, being he was only startin’ his run for governor and the election and campaigning weren’t too far along.

We could hear him out there somewhere on the bottom floor of the house, and Hex and I looked at each other.

Sounded like he was alone, on a call.

We followed the sound of his voice, creeping real quiet like; and then Hex straightened, eyeing me right outside the double doors leading into an office or den or whatever.

I nodded, and he made some intentional noise after I slipped the Glock out of the back of my waistband and made ready.

“Bryan, I’m going to have to call you back,” the politician said, and we swept around the corner and into his office.

“Who’re you?” he demanded, and I raised my gun before he could get his out of the fancy box sitting on the top of his desk.

Hex smiled and shot me a wink.

Jesus Christ, these citizen fucks were predictable.

“Have a seat,” Hex said jovially. “We just want to have a little chat.”

Maya’s dad had his hands up and sank into his desk chair. I held my gun on him.

Hex heaved a gusty sigh, like he was breathin’ in deep somethin’ that smelled mighty fine.

“Haaaa! You smell that?” he asked and Bashaw eyed him warily.

“Smell what?” he asked curtly.

“Why that would be the end of your political career,” Hex declared.

“Actually,” I said. “That would be the end period.”

Bashaw looked from Hex to me, his expression going from a frown to one of almost disbelief.

“Now you got your choice,” Hex said after making a noise of agreement to what I’d said.

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